


All of These Stars (Will Guide Us Home)

by lucernis



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel!Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Angel/Human Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, I Actually Had To Do Fucking Research For This, Logic | Logan Sanders Has So Many Issues, Logic | Logan Sanders Is Not Neurotypical, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, M/M, Neuroscientist!Logic | Logan Sanders, Sad Logic | Logan Sanders, but i didn’t want to misrepresent a specific disorder so it’s kept ambiguous, gratuitous discussion of stars and constellations, hurt/comfort elements, incredibly vague mention of god, let me know if I missed anything, like. so much discussion of stars and constellations., rated teen because there’s some swearing, short discussion of not eating (it’s not purposeful though), that’s how many Facts And Stuff are in this, there’s also some fluffy stuff thrown in there for good measure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23824141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucernis/pseuds/lucernis
Summary: He had a guardian angel. Okay. He could sort of work with that.Angels were real. He could work with that a bit less, though he supposed it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.His guardian angel was very pretty and absolutelyfascinating—from an objective and scientific standpoint, of course. He knew that those two were indisputable facts, so he didn’t have a problem withthat,he could acceptthat.The fact that he had a guardian angel meant he needed help.Oh,absolutelynot. Logan couldn’t evenpretendto work with that.In which Logan finds himself stuck with a guardian angel and a strange feeling blossoming between them.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 38
Kudos: 126





	All of These Stars (Will Guide Us Home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeerDog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerDog/gifts).



> for the [sanders sides reverse bang](https://sanderssidesfanfiction.tumblr.com/tagged/reverse-bang-tag), run by [@sanderssidesfanfiction](https://sanderssidesfanfiction.tumblr.com/)
> 
> as per the rules of the reverse bang, the art this is inspired by was done by none other than @2queer2deer ([tumblr](https://2queer2deer.tumblr.com/)/[instagram](https://instagram.com/2queer2deer?igshid=v1ygk9864mqe)) and is [here](https://2queer2deer.tumblr.com/post/616406491851800576/my-peice-for-the-reverse-bang-held-by)/ ~~here~~
> 
> (also!! many thanks to [ren](https://main-chive.tumblr.com/) for offering to beta this after it got too long for me to catch everything myself and my brain gave up on me fjskskd)
> 
> warnings in case you missed the tags: brief mention of not eating (though it isn’t intentional), swearing, a good bit of angst before that happy ending

Logan was a neuroscientist. He knew that a fight or flight response was triggered when the human brain was overwhelmed and stressed. He knew exactly how it dealt with information and that if need be, it would formulate more believable scenarios when the current one couldn’t be processed. He knew that when it came to sleep deprivation, intense hallucinations would only start after a full seventy-two hours of no sleep. 

Logan was not overwhelmed. Logan’s mind had always processed things in the way it should have, and he was not prone to coming up with scenarios that had never happened. While it wasn’t as much sleep as would have been ideal—seeing as he had been consistently sleep deprived for the past week—Logan had still slept for a full seven and a half hours last night.

And that’s why, for the _life_ of him, he could not figure out why there appeared to be an angel in the middle of his lab.

“Ah,” the angel said, turning around, completely oblivious to the fact that it (he?) was not supposed to exist. “You must be Logan.”

So. The angel knew his name. Logan found himself nodding blankly in response, trying to think up some sort of explanation for why there would be a _fucking angel_ in his lab. 

“Nice to meet you then, Logan. How are you?” the angel asked, still clueless about how utterly impossible its (his?) being here was. He (Logan had decided somewhere in the back of his mind that calling something humanoid “it” felt distinctly wrong) lifted himself onto one of the stainless steel tables littered about the lab, swinging his feet as he continued talking. “I’m Roman,” he added, almost as an afterthought. 

Logan blinked. The angel—or Roman, as Logan supposed he should refer to him—was sitting on his lab table, and that’s about all Logan’s mind could process at the moment. Acting on the one thing that made sense to him, Logan took a step forward. “Get off my lab table.” After taking a breath and making a very conscious effort not to scream, he tacked on a clipped, “Please.”

“Oh! Sorry, yes. I’ll do that.” Roman pushed himself smoothly off the lab table, landing on the ground with barely a sound. 

“Right,” Logan said under his breath. “Right,” he repeated, this time directed more at Roman than himself. “I’m going to have to wipe that down, and then you’re going to tell me _exactly_ why you’re here, how you know who I am, whether or not you’re actually an angel, how your wings work, and then you’re going to get the _fuck_ out of my lab.” With that, Logan felt perfectly secure in grabbing a clean cloth and a spray bottle of bleach before walking back to the offending lab table and wiping it down thoroughly.

“I think you’re going to have to repeat all those questions for me, one at a time, and at a _far_ slower pace,” Roman said, hovering in the background once Logan had begun cleaning. “I caught exactly none of it.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “I apologize, I was rambling a bit. Give me one moment and I’ll be right with you.” With a final swipe of the cloth, Logan put away the cleaning supplies and pulled a notepad out of his lab coat. “Now,” he said, scrawling something across the page as he sat down, “please, have a seat in this _chair_ right across from me and then answer this to start: why are you here?”

“Why, for you, of course! I’m your guardian angel, Logan, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

That raised a fair few more questions than it answered, but Logan wasn’t going to think too hard on that just yet. He finished noting what Roman had said and then moved on to his next question. “I had asked you how you knew who I was, but I think that question just answered itself, so I’m going to skip it.” Logan tapped his pen against the notepad for a moment, recalling what he’d said next. “Ah, and then I asked if you were actually an angel, which, again, I feel has been sufficiently explained. Now then, how do your wings work?” 

“Like any wings would work, I suppose,” Roman said, ruffling his feathers a bit as he stretched them out to their full width. Logan winced as a few feathers fell to the floor, making a mental note to sweep them up as soon as he could. “I flap them, and they help me fly. What else would you like to know about them?”

“Hm, they do protrude from your back, correct? And you were born with them?”

“Yes, and yes, I— where are you going?” Logan had gotten up from his chair while Roman had been in the middle of speaking, poking about his lab for something.

“Just getting a pair of gloves. Please, don’t mind me. You can continue.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright. I was pretty much done. But may I ask _why_ you’re looking for gloves?”

“Right,” Logan agreed with a quick nod. “I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed before going to get them, but… would you mind if I touched your wings? I’m curious as to how they feel.”

“Absolutely! Be my guest.”

“Thank you. Could I ask you a few more questions while I work?”

“Ask away, darling.”

“In that case—” Logan pulled the gloves over his hands with a snap, walking up behind Roman, “—I hope this isn’t too forward or uncouth, but what exactly does it _mean_ to be an angel? On Earth, we have a multitude of myths and ideas about what they are, how they act, where they come from, what they do, and so on. What’s the truth?”

“Hm, I can’t really answer that. Since you’re a mortal, there are certain things I’m simply not allowed to tell you. But! I _can_ say that every culture got at least a few aspects right. Every story holds a grain of truth, and the stories of angels are no different.” Roman paused, and Logan heard the first few hints of a frown enter his voice. “What are you doing back there, anyway? It tickles.” 

“Me? Oh, I’m just looking for muscles or bones, I suppose, though anything interesting would do. I’m not sure. Do _you_ happen to know what your wings are made of?”

“Um. Muscle, probably? And bone and feathers? I’m not sure, honestly. It’s not something that’s of particular importance, you know?”

“I see,” Logan said, still running his hands through Roman’s feathers. “They appear to be almost identical to bird wings, did you know that?”

“…No? Is that a good thing?”

“It means they were specifically designed for flight, likely longer flights as well. They’re more similar in structure to the wings of a bird of prey, though I suppose that would make sense, especially considering that the rest of you is humanoid and we too are a predatory species. So yes,” Logan concluded, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’d say that is a good thing.”

Roman turned his head slightly, watching Logan pull off his gloves and put them carefully in a waste container with a curious look in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad.”

“Do you mind if I take a few of your feathers to study them?” Upon seeing Roman bristle a little at the thought, Logan added swiftly, “I was only referring to the ones that have fallen to the floor, I wouldn’t take them directly from your wings, not to worry.”

“I don’t see why not, then. You didn’t have to ask, you know.”

Logan shrugged. “It’s always better to ask about everything when working with human—or humanoid, in your case—test subjects.”

“Hm,” Roman replied, cocking his head to the side as Logan lifted a few feathers from the ground with a pair of tweezers before carefully sealing them in a plastic bag.

Once he’d done that though, Logan’s scientific curiosity immediately waned, leaving only a looming sense of panic because, as he’d somehow managed to forget, there was a _fucking angel_ in his _science lab_ and absolutely no protocol for handling such a situation. “I need to sit down,” he decided aloud.

“Good idea,” Roman hummed, getting out of his own chair and making his way around the lab. “This is where you work, huh?”

“Yes. Don’t touch a thing.” Logan’s words were purely instinctual, any rational thought he may have had vanishing rapidly.

“Noted,” Roman replied, making a show of folding his hands behind his back before peering into a microscope. “You’re a neuroscientist, right?”

“Shouldn’t you already know that? Being my ‘guardian angel’ and all,” Logan said, and he would have put finger quotes around the words “guardian angel” if his hands were not currently occupied with holding his head between them. Logically, Logan knew his sarcasm and disbelief stemmed from the fact that he was currently falling into denial but emotionally, Logan was very far from ready to acknowledge the fact that angels _just might_ exist—no, scratch that—that they _did_ exist.

“Oh, of course I knew that. I’m merely trying to make small talk. You seem a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“This ‘small talk’ is only serving to make me more overwhelmed.”

“Ah. Would you prefer if I got straight to the core of your psychological issues and the reason you’ve been deemed worthy of being assigned a guardian angel?”

“…I’m going to have to say no to that. What would _really_ help is you _shutting the fuck up_ so I can think straight.”

“Jeez, I knew you weren’t good at making friends, but I didn’t—”

“So sorry, did you not hear when I asked for complete silence?”

“Right, right. Got it. Shutting up now.”

Logan let out a sigh at that, letting his head drop once more into his hands.

_He had a guardian angel. Okay. He could sort of work with that._

_Angels were real. He could work with that a bit less, though he supposed it wasn’t entirely unreasonable._

_The angel was very pretty and absolutely_ fascinating— _from an objective and scientific standpoint, of course. He knew that those were just indisputable facts, so he didn’t have a problem with_ that, _he could accept_ that. 

_The fact that he had a guardian angel meant that he needed help._

Oh, _absolutely_ not. Logan couldn’t even _pretend_ to work with that.

Having come to a decision, he lifted his head from his hands. “You need to get out. Now.”

Roman blinked at him from his place behind a different microscope than the one he’d been near before. “I— what? Why?”

“I don’t need—nor do I _want_ a guardian angel, so I’m asking you to leave. That’s all, I can assure you it’s not personal.”

“Logan, darling, I’m frankly offended that you would imply that I would just _abandon_ you like that! Besides, I’m tied to you until further notice. I couldn’t leave you behind even if I wanted to—which, for the record, I don’t now and won’t ever.”

“Yes, well— figure something out. I am not entertaining this any longer. I apologize for the inconvenience, but you are of no use to me. Thank whoever’s in charge for thinking of me, and goodbye, Roman. It was nice meeting you.”

“…So, what do you not understand about the fact that I _cannot physically leave?_ Because I thought that was pretty clear, but if you need me to, I can explain again.”

“I understood you perfectly fine,” Logan said, standing up and taking an unintentionally menacing step towards Roman. “I simply don’t care. I’d thank you kindly for leaving me alone. I don’t need your help.”

“Was that an invitation for me to list all the ways you do, in fact, need my help?”

“No, it really wasn’t, it was actually a very explicit invitation to _leave me alone_ and _get the fu_ —”

“So! First of all, you’re lonely.”

“That’s just wrong, plain and simple. I have Patton and I have Virgil, not to mention my family and—”

“Very true, but if you try to tell me they truly understand you, you’d be lying, no?”

Logan had nothing to say to that.

“Exactly. Secondly, your ambition and curiosity are the only things you’re living for. You have no proper sense of self and no confidence in who you are as a person.”

“I—”

“No, no, I’m not done yet. Thirdly, you still haven’t moved past the fact that your aspirations and curiosities have always been mocked and still don’t feel that you can speak your mind freely because you fear you’ll be belittled for your interests.”

“I think that’s more than enough, I get the idea—”

“And finally,” Roman said a bit louder, talking over Logan’s objections, “in your drive to prove the people from your past wrong, you’ve lost all trust in those closest to you. Not only are you lonely now, you still insist on keeping everyone at a distance so you will _forever_ be lonely.”

Logan was silent.

“So, how did I do? Was I right?”

“Perhaps a few things you said were somewhat accurate, but that in no way means I need your help. Because I _don’t._ ”

“Mm, my boss begs to differ, and so do I. Besides, you really don’t have a say in this. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” Roman didn’t seem very troubled with this information, sending Logan a sparkling grin followed quickly by a wink.

“Well then. Let’s just say you _do_ end up staying around. What exactly do you plan on doing that any good therapist couldn’t?”

“Well, for starters, I’m an _angel,_ Logan. My angelic nature is a healing force all on its own. Secondly, a therapist couldn’t provide you with love now, could they? They wouldn’t be able to help you feel less lonely by being your friend, huh?”

“I don’t need—”

“You don’t need friends? Everyone needs friends, Logan. It’s _human_ nature, I’m sure you know that.”

Logan sighed, running a hand absently through his hair. “Let’s say I ignore you. Would you eventually leave me alone?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright then, let’s just pretend I _do_ accept your existence in my life. How am I supposed to explain who you are?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. I can handle the explanations, that was all a part of my training.”

“How comforting. Now, what happens if I’m _never_ deemed ‘fixed?’ Do you just have to live with me until I die? Does that mean you’ve failed?”

“Okay, so let’s get one thing straight—”

“I don’t think you can do _that._ I’m gay.”

“Oh, I know, it’s just a figure of speech, but _anyway,_ that wasn’t even the point. What I was _going_ to say is that you aren’t being ‘fixed.’ You don’t _need_ to be fixed, you _need_ love and support. So I’m not here to fix you, I’m here to help you, and I won’t fail in that, Logan.”

“That’s a sweet sentiment I suppose, but that doesn’t eliminate the possibility of failure by any means.”

“Well then, it seems we have an opportunity here, now don’t we?”

“Do I _want_ to know what that entails?”

“Quite possibly not, but you also don’t have a choice. Either way though, you need to learn how to trust people, right? Here’s your first chance. Trust that I won’t fail you, because that’s all you can really do in this case.”

_“Absolutely not.”_

“Hm, I don’t think that sounded much like you trusting me, somehow. Let’s try that again: I won’t fail you, Logan. Trust me.”

“I… will ignore the possibility that you might fail.”

Roman snorted. “That’s closer, at least. You’ll get there someday.”

“Well,” Logan said, clearing his throat. “Would you mind getting out of my lab while I work, at least? I’m afraid I won’t be able to concentrate with someone else in the room.”

“Even if that someone’s fabulously charming and winningly handsome?”

“I’m afraid so, and I’m so very sorry about that,” Logan said, not sounding very sorry at all.

“You don’t sound very sorry at all,” Roman pouted. 

“Yes, well, I am and I’ve wasted enough time entertaining you. So if you don’t mind, I have work to do now.”

“Ooo, what are you doing toda—”

“No, nope, absolutely not, get out.” He herded Roman out the door, slamming it once he’d made it through. Leaning his head against it with a sigh, Logan made a futile attempt to collect his thoughts, knowing instinctively that no matter how hard he tried, he would be getting absolutely nothing of worth done today.

* * *

For the next several weeks, Logan was constantly plagued by Roman’s continued existence. 

The angel refused to leave him alone for more than fifteen minutes at a time, and Logan was certain he was going absolutely insane because of it. No matter how many locked doors he hid behind, Roman always managed to find a way through. Logan hypothesized that it was magic, but Roman vehemently denied that when asked.

“Me? Use magic? Why, of course not! It’s not allowed when I’m on Earth because I’m supposed to be ’blending in,’ and I would _never_ break a rule as important as that. I’m shocked and appalled that you’d accuse me of such a thing, my darling Logan.”

Logan didn’t believe that absolute bullshit for a second, but he could never prove anything to the contrary, even though he did spend nearly every waking moment with Roman. Even if he could never get Roman to stop talking. Even if he was _overwhelmed_ with the constant onslaught of _Roman Roman Roman—_

At that point, Logan couldn’t remember what he had been trying to find out in the first place. As he spent more time around Roman’s constant chatter, he could feel himself _physically_ losing brain cells; it was getting harder to think, harder to move, harder to calm his head, his heart, his breaths. 

It was possible that he should have mentioned this to Roman, but Logan didn’t want to tell the angel any more than necessary, even though doing so would mean that he would leave him behind sooner. That wasn’t worth the vulnerability he would be showing, nothing was. 

So he just had to… survive. 

He could survive; he’d done so all his life, clearly. There was no reason at all for him to stop now.

Besides, he had a few hours of Roman-free time while he was at work, and that was enough to let him breathe properly. Though it was gradually becoming harder for him to concentrate long enough to find the correct train of thought to follow, his time spent at work as a neuroscientist was still far superior to any time spent around Roman.

At least, it had been before today. Because today, everything— _everything—_ was going wrong.

First, it was his alarm being set to the wrong sound. Instead of waking him up with its usual serene tones that gradually increased in volume, it emitted a jarring series of beeps that physically _hurt_ Logan when he heard them. 

Then, it was his coffee being too cold, then too sweet, then being spilled over his counter. It hadn’t all been lost, but what was left in the thermos wasn’t enough to placate Logan as the right amount would have on any other day. 

After the spilled coffee came the pout Roman gave him after he’d snapped at him for humming too loudly. After the pout came the imploring request to pretty please tell Roman what was wrong, after the request came another bout of waspish remarks, after the waspish remarks came another pout, and after the pout, Logan simply left.

Once he arrived at work, Logan was certain that his day was going to get better. It could only go up from the pit he’d fallen into, right?

Wrong. Logan’s day could—and would—get so much worse.

The first thing to go wrong at work was seeing his messy lab. He’d been tired when he’d left last night, leaving the clean up to his future self. This was proving to have been a terrible idea. 

Cringing at the equipment strewn all over, Logan locked his bag away in a locker on the left wall and got to work cleaning. 

That, at least, was calming. 

What was decidedly _not_ calming was having one of his coworkers burst through the door without so much as a knock. This was the second thing to go wrong after Logan had arrived at work, and the following conversation was the third.

“You aren’t busy, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I—”

“Doesn’t matter. We need you to check out these scans right about… oh, _now,_ but no pressure of course. I’ll be in room 312 whenever you’re done,” the man—whose name Logan couldn’t seem to remember for the life of him—interrupted with a tight smile. “Thanks,” he added as an afterthought, strolling out of the lab without even having the decency to close the door behind him.

The fourth thing to go wrong was the fact that Logan had to actually concentrate on doing something while there was still clutter all over the room, but he did manage to do so with only mild suffering. 

Logan had just begun to grow hungry when the realization of the fifth thing to go wrong dawned on him. _He’d forgotten to pack his lunch._

Fuck.

This wasn’t catastrophic, of course. He could always go somewhere to buy lunch, but it was while Logan was searching for his wallet that he remembered leaving it on the counter at home. While Logan would by no means starve without lunch, not having food to sustain him for the rest of the day would not bode well for anyone who needed to speak with him. 

That was the sixth thing that went wrong.

The seventh thing to go wrong was Logan’s lightheadedness, a sudden reminder that he hadn’t had _breakfast_ either, so consumed had he been with the spilled coffee and argument with Roman. This left him with two _awful_ options. He could either wait until he got home to eat (which would have countless adverse effects on his physical health) or he could ask to borrow money from someone he worked with (which would have countless adverse effects on his mental health). There really was no winning for him.

But having to deal with the discomfort of asking for money seemed to Logan a lesser evil at that point than having to wait for several more hours before he’d be able to alleviate the gnawing pain in his stomach.

This was the eighth thing to go wrong, the ninth being the fact that the sandwich he’d been lent had been slathered with mayo and gone soggy because of it. 

Logan’s day seemed to be looking up after lunch, though, as he had finally managed to finish cleaning up his lab by that point and was able to continue research into a different patient’s condition at a more leisurely pace than he’d had to think at that morning.

There was still so much that could go wrong, though, and it all did. 

The tenth thing was a conversation with a coworker that stretched on for a small eternity, the eleventh a series of three brand new things he had to do at “his earliest convenience,” the twelfth a glass beaker that Logan had dropped shattering to pieces on the floor.

Logan left after he’d cleaned up _that_ mess, not wanting to get to the thirteenth bad thing because although he was far from superstitious, the fact that he now knew angels existed was fucking with his mind in that regard.

Once he got home, he restarted the count of things that went wrong solely for his own sanity. Reaching a count of unfortunate incidents that was any higher than twenty things would make him want to scream, so when he saw Roman waiting for him on the couch as soon as he walked through the doorway, he considered that the first terrible thing to happen once he’d gotten home as opposed to the twenty-first terrible thing that had happened in total.

The second thing was the discovery that Roman had raided his refrigerator earlier that day and eaten the lunch he’d made for himself, the third that he found his house to be entirely void of Crofters jam. The fourth was the fact that peanut butter eaten alone made his mouth feel thick and dry, the fifth Roman’s proclamation that he’d told Logan so.

The sixth thing to go wrong once Logan got home was the fact that Roman would simply not stop singing, even after he’d mentioned that he was going to take a nap because it had been a long day so could he _please_ be quiet for just thirty minutes? That was _all_ he wanted, thirty blissful minutes of peace and quiet. 

He didn’t even get five.

That was alright though, he decided, because he could read and block out any noise that happened to drift his way, obnoxious singing included. 

The seventh tragedy occurred when Logan finished his book and had to return once again to reality and the angel that came with it. It was getting dark, and Logan should have gone to the kitchen to get food at that point. He hadn’t eaten much at all today, but going to the kitchen also meant having to deal with Roman and his loud voice and prying questions and— nope. Logan didn’t have enough mental energy left to handle that. 

So instead, he decided to do what he always did when his problems proved to be too much for him. He ran away from them.

Specifically, he ran away to a field of wildflowers in the middle of nowhere with the most perfect view of the stars he’d ever seen. 

While that was still running away, Logan tended to ignore that in favor of admiring the night sky.

Now, all he had to do was get out of the house without running into Roman. He would want to know where Logan was going and then he’d have to explain and then Roman would want to come with him and that could only end with Logan becoming even more frustrated with the world, so he opted to leave through his window.

He’d never tried to do that before, so he was pleasantly surprised when he made it out with only a slight stumble. Without the walls of his house closing in on him, Logan noted that he felt more at ease than he had all day. The night air also helped to calm him, and his entire demeanor had relaxed by the time he reached his field of wildflowers.

Letting out a sigh, Logan felt any remaining tension melt away as he sat down beneath the leaves of a willow tree. He leaned his head back against its trunk and allowed himself to simply trace the constellations above him with his eyes. 

When he’d been far younger, more naive, and less concerned with making enough money to live comfortably, Logan had seriously considered becoming an astronomer. He’d also toyed with the thought of being an astrophysicist, but the idea of having to work with concepts that weren’t concrete or truly proven made him feel slightly panicked and had turned him off from that completely. Still though, he’d always found anything to do with planets, galaxies, stars, and anything in between to be utterly fascinating. He could have spent hours in the library reading about astronomers and their discoveries from centuries past, and while _Logan_ wouldn’t ever be one to work solely in theoreticals, learning about those theories was almost more fascinating than the facts themselves. No matter what else was going on in his life at the time, he had always been able to turn to the stars in some form or another as a calming presence. They were the one constant that hadn’t managed to fade from his life, and Logan was incredibly grateful for it. He didn’t even want to think about a life lived without the stars for company.

That’s why this field of wildflowers meant so much to him; it wasn’t the place itself as much as it was what it allowed him to see. His surroundings were undoubtedly beautiful, but they paled in comparison to the sky above. And, sitting beneath the willow tree and looking up, up, up, Logan was perfectly content. 

He would have stayed that way too were it not for the arrival of one The Blessed Roman, guardian angel. 

“Logan? What are you doing all the way out here?”

Sighing, Logan avoided the question. “Did you follow me?”

“No! Well, kind of. That depends on what you mean by following. No, I didn’t see you leave and then decide to leave then as well. But yes, I did notice that you were being awfully quiet and decide to check on you before discovering that you were gone before using the bond between us to guide me here.”

“Wonderful, so I can never escape you.”

“No, you really can’t, I’m afraid.” Roman walked the rest of the way to the trunk of the willow tree, sitting down beside Logan and pressing his back up against it as well. “Now, why are you here?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to talk to you. In fact, I would much prefer to be left alone.”

“Ah, you’re shutting down again. You don’t want to be vulnerable, so you’re pushing me away when I try to get you to open up. You definitely shouldn’t do that, especially considering that no matter how vulnerable you are, I am physically not able to hurt you in any way, shape, or form. I promise you can trust me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Oh, that’s fine too! You can talk about anything, but please, Logan, just talk to me.”

“I— why?”

Roman shrugged. “Talking helps, sometimes. Just to have someone who’ll listen to you, you know?”

“I’ll try it, I suppose. But if I ask you to leave me alone again, please do so.”

“Of course, darling.”

“Alright. So.” Logan cleared his throat, not knowing how to continue. He looked up at the stars again, and his eyes lit up with the sudden brilliance of an idea. “Look at the sky, and see that star over there? The really bright one?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Its name is Rasalhague, which is derived from the Arabic phrase meaning ‘the head of the serpent collector.’ And since it’s the brightest star in the constellation Ophiuchus—a constellation depicting a man often believed to be the Greek god of medicine, Asclepius, with a serpent in his hands—the name is rather fitting. And the bright star below it? That’s Sabik. Its name also comes from Arabic, meaning ‘the preceding one,’ though this time there’s no fitting explanation as to why. If you connect those two stars with twenty-five others, the brightest ones being there, there, there, here, there, and there—” Logan pointed at a new star in the constellation with each word he spoke, “—then you have the full Ophiuchus constellation. And if you look just to the left of Sabik, you can see Serpens Cauda, which is the tail of the serpent Asclepius is holding. Now, below and slightly to the right of Rasalhague is Serpens Caput, the other half of the full Serpens constellation. If you translate their names from Latin, they mean exactly what they are supposed to depict: ‘snake tail’ and ‘snake head,’ respectively.”

“Oh! I remember those! If I’m not mistaken, I helped to create them.”

At that, Logan’s gaze snapped back down to Earth. “You did what?” he asked, voice breathy with awe.

“I’m an angel, Logan, of course I helped with the creation of the universe! I made quite a few stars, actually. I think you humans call the constellations they make up Corona Borealis and Corona Australis? The northern and southern crowns? There are a few others that don’t remember the names of, but if you look over there—” at this, Roman took Logan’s hand in his and moved it in a circle around a spot in the sky a little bit to the left of Ophiuchus and Serpens, “—that’s where most of my stars are.”

Breathless, Logan went quiet for a few moments, trying to remember which constellation those stars made up, if any. Then, without warning, he gasped. “Oh! Oh, your stars are near Microscopium and Telescopium, two of the six constellations Lacaille discovered and named after scientific instruments and navigational tools, all first documented in 1756. Lacaille was a French astronomer who also christened a fair amount of other modern constellations the same year, but my favorites are those six: Microscopium and Telescopium, of course, and Fornax, which is the chemist’s distillation furnace, Octans, the octant, Pyxis, the compass, and Circinus, the dividing compasses. You can’t see all of them right now since they’re in different places throughout the sky and some of them aren’t as bright nor as recognizable as, say, Ursa Major and Minor or Orion’s Belt, so even then they would be more difficult to see, but—” Logan stopped, seeming to catch himself. “Sorry. You probably didn’t want to hear about all that.”

“No!” The intensity in Roman’s voice caused Logan to turn towards him in confusion, a slight frown on his face. “I mean, of _course_ I want to continue to hear you talk about constellations, so _no,_ please don’t stop talking, please never assume I won’t want to hear what you have to say. It’s interesting, and I like hearing the joy in your voice.”

“Ah,” Logan said, his face coloring lightly. He cleared his throat again before continuing in a softer voice, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Logan. When you talk about stars or space or science or honestly, anything that makes you smile, it’s—no, _you_ —are beautiful.”

“I’m just… lecturing, really, and there’s nothing special about that.” Logan rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Besides, you were the one who _created_ the stars I was telling you about. Compared to that, I didn’t do anything at all.”

“On the contrary, I think your knowledge is far more than a simple ‘anything.’ When I formed those stars out of light and space dust, I never could have imagined them inspiring a smile—or anything else, for that matter—so gorgeous.”

Logan wanted to ask how Roman could have possibly believed that stars, some of the most beautiful creations in existence, _wouldn’t_ result in something just as pretty. 

Logan also wanted to completely ignore the fact that Roman thought the resulting pretty thing was his smile, fearing how flustered he’d become if Roman so much as alluded to that statement again. Eventually though, he settled on a response that didn’t encapsulate even half as much as he was feeling. “Thank you for creating them,” he said.

“If they’ve brought you even a fraction of the amount of happiness as they seem to have, it all will have been worth it.”

Logan felt himself blushing again, but he chose to pretend that his face was not a brilliant shade of red. “Yes, well—” he trailed off, finding himself unable to think of the right words to say.

Roman laughed, lightly setting his hand over Logan’s to pat it in a show of fond affection. “You’re adorable.” He grinned once more, shifting his grip so he was holding Logan’s hand properly before moving on to an entirely new subject. “Anyhow, are you feeling any better?”

“Actually? I think I am,” Logan said, making a valiant attempt to convince himself that his improved mood had nothing to do with the fact that Roman was so casually holding his hand.

“Soo… are you saying that I was right?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I would never.” Roman laughed again, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound. “But thank you.”

“Of course, Logan. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know it is, but… it’s nice to have someone pretend to care anyway.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. I promise you, Logan, I will never pretend with you.”

“Oh.” There was an odd sort of warmth in Logan’s chest, and he wanted to hold onto the memory of it for the rest of his life. As he drowned in that wonderful feeling, he felt the rest of his day fade into nothing, completely insignificant in this current moment of peace. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“You’re welcome,” Roman replied, but it sounded like he meant something else too, something hidden just beneath his spoken words that Logan couldn’t quite pick up on.

With a soft sigh, Logan leaned closer and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder. “You know,” he began, “I should apologize for the way I treated you earlier today. It was uncalled for, and you didn’t deserve it. I took out my feelings on you when you didn’t really do anything but sing too loudly—which, to be fair, can be _incredibly_ annoying, but I digress—so I’m sorry.”

“Um,” Roman said in a way that was very nearly a squeak as he looked down at Logan. “Thanks.” He swallowed, and his voice returned to normal when he spoke again. “Now that you mention it though, I _should_ probably do less of that when you’re around. I didn’t realize it bothered you as much as it did, so I too apologize.”

“Thank you,” Logan said, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “And I’ll do my best to remind you in a less snappish way whenever it gets on my nerves.”

“That would be nice, yes,” Roman agreed, returning Logan’s smile with a soft one of his own. “Now, I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I am truly glad I got to talk to you tonight. I know it may not seem like a lot, but it’s a better start than I would have ever hoped for you. Forgive me if this sounds odd, but I’m incredibly proud of you for that.”

“You’re very pushy, it was going to happen eventually.” Logan let out a small laugh at Roman’s answering noise of offense before clarifying, “And it’s nice to talk to you. I like having someone who’ll listen to me.”

“More people _should_ listen to you. You’re fascinating, Logan.”

Logan felt his face heat up and his heart flutter yet again. “I— hngk.” he turned to bury his face in Roman’s shoulder. “You aren’t so bad yourself, I suppose,” he replied eventually, once his face had cooled down just a bit and his heart had slowed to a slightly more normal pace.

Roman hummed his agreement, placing a light kiss on the top of Logan’s head—which, for the record, completely nullified any progress Logan’s face and heart had made in calming themselves—before saying, “It’s getting rather late, and you’ve had a long day. We should go home.”

“Hm, we should,” Logan agreed, making no effort to move. 

Roman sighed. “If you want, I could carry you.”

“What?!” Unlike Roman’s almost-squeak, Logan’s was far more obvious. “No, no, that’s alright, there’s no need for you to carry me. It’s fine, it’s all fine,” he said, standing suddenly and brushing nonexistent dirt off his clothes.

“Let us be off then!” Roman declared, kindly ignoring Logan’s flustered state and offering out his arm with a flourish.

Logan placed his hand in the crook of it, a smile that didn’t read at all as love-struck back on his face. “What a perfect gentleman.”

* * *

After their conversation beneath the willow tree, Logan’s days passed much more peacefully. Roman wasn’t as loud and overbearing, and Logan found that talking to him about anything and everything was just as easy as it had been that night. Their days were full of laughter and happiness, and Logan finally grew comfortable with the idea of living with a—with _his_ —guardian angel.

Logan had also grown painfully aware of the lulls in conversation whenever Roman complimented him and he found himself at a complete loss for words or when he shot Roman an unexpected smile and the angel’s face turned a shade of red almost as bright as the sash he’d had on the day Logan had met him. He was certain it couldn’t have meant much, but those lulls still blinked out at him like a neon sign on a deserted street.

…Alright, so it was _possible_ that he wasn’t so naïve as to think that the constant state of being flustered and the constant blushing and the constant heated eye contact and everything else that had been happening meant _nothing._ And it was _possible_ that he was aware that this likely meant he harbored feelings for Roman and Roman for him, but that in no way meant that he had to _acknowledge_ these feelings.

He very much did not want to waste a month of perfectly good friendship, so he would also very much pretend these feelings did not exist.

At least, this is what he _would_ have done had he not walked into his room one day while Roman was stretching his wings. 

It was only then that Logan had realized that he hadn’t seen Roman’s wings at all since the first day they’d met and in all honesty, had nearly forgotten about him. There were times when Roman seemed so _human_ that Logan couldn’t believe that was not the case. When he saw Roman’s wings though, he was reminded sharply of the fact that Roman was an angel, through and through.

Roman was an angel, and he was _falling._

Logan _assumed_ that this was why Roman’s wings were going black at the tips, but he still figured clarifying would be prudent. “Roman?” he asked, knocking lightly on the door frame to alert the angel to his presence.

“Logan!” Roman exclaimed, spinning around and hiding his wings behind him as best he could in one rapid movement. “What— what are you doing here, my darling?”

Giving a sigh that was altogether too fond, Logan said, “This is my room, Roman. I’m in here because I forgot my glasses on the nightstand.”

“Oh,” Roman nodded, still trying to make his wings disappear behind his body. “Yeah, that makes sense. Uh, go ahead and, um. Get your glasses so you can see. Not! That there’s anything interesting to see here.” Roman flashed him a sparkling grin, hiding the layer of panic beneath it.

“Telling me that there isn’t ‘anything interesting to see here’ is only going to convince me of the opposite. Besides, I already saw your wings. Why are they turning black?”

“That? Oh, that’s nothing!”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“…By ‘nothing,’ I of course mean nothing of importance! I tried dyeing my feathers and was checking to see how they looked. It’s not good, I know,” Roman said with a laugh, that impressively enough, barely sounded forced.

“Are you falling?” Logan asked, ignoring Roman’s explanation entirely.

“Am I— am I falling?” Roman scoffed. “Why on _Earth_ would I be falling? There’s no reason for me to fall, is there?”

“Well, I don’t think I should know. I’m not the one who knows the rules and hierarchy of the angels. So, you tell me. What reason would there be for you—or angels in general, I suppose—to fall?”

“Ah. Angels fall when they do… something bad. You know. Bad things. _Evil_ things.”

Logan raised an eyebrow again. “Such as?”

“Oooh, you know. Pride, sometimes. Or jealousy, sloth, lust, greed, gluttony, wrath, too much disrespect or insubordination, not doing their job, uh, consorting with the enemy, and other such wickedness. Just. General bad things, as I said.”

“So, _have_ you been prideful?”

“Not any more than what’s healthy.”

“Jealous? Lazy? Lustful? Greedy, gluttonous, wrathful?”

“Nope.”

“And I know you haven’t been disrespectful and that you have been doing your job.”

“Mhm. See, Logan? No reason at all for me to fall.”

“What would you define ‘the enemy’ as?”

“What?”

“ ‘The enemy,’ ” Logan repeated. “As in, ‘consorting with the enemy.’ ”

“Oh! Some define it as any non-angelic entity, but most would agree that ‘the enemy’ is more along the lines of a beast from Hell or another demon of sorts. And I _clearly_ haven’t been consorting with any demons, so—”

“Define ‘consorting’ for me in this context, will you?”

“Well, normally it would mean to closely associate yourself with someone, but, seeing as I am a guardian angel, that is sort of my job. I’m not _consorting_ with you if that’s what you’re worried about. The only way I’d be able to properly consort with you would be if I developed some sort of bond with you outside of a normal guardian angel-mortal relationship. Which! I haven’t! I’m just helping you work through your issues, and if I just so happen to become closer to you while doing so, no one could _fault me_ for that!”

“Roman, I hate to break it to you, but that sounds exactly like consorting with the enemy. If you’ll excuse me for pointing this out, I feel we have a relationship that is just a little bit different than a strictly professional one.”

“Okay, so _maybe_ you’re right. But almost all good guardian angels become friends with their humans! I’m hardly the first one, and none of _them_ have fallen.”

“Mm, I suppose that is true. Can you think of any other reason that you could be falling?”

“Well… there is this one thing? That might possibly be happening? But I _sincerely_ doubt it is,” Roman said through blithe laughter.

“Do you admit that you are falling, then?”

“I— uh, no…?”

“That convinced me of precisely nothing, thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Roman’s demeanor brightened immediately upon saying this, as though pretending that everything was fine would convince Logan that it was. 

It didn’t work, clearly, as Logan asked not a moment later, “Now, what’s that thing that might possibly be happening?”

“That? Oh, nothing! Again, nothing at all of importance. I assure you I’m fine, Logan. I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt that you could. In theory, at least.” Logan couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face at Roman’s offended gasps, but he managed to continue through barely repressed laughter. “But right now, you are very much not taking care of yourself for whatever reason. Care to inform me what that’s about?”

“I mean, no. Is that an option?”

Logan sighed in fond exasperation. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well. It was worth a shot.”

“No, it really wasn’t.”

“You’re no fun. But! Nice talk, it was great to see you, Lo!”

“…What are you doing.”

“Uh, I’m going to finish getting ready for the day?”

“And are you just assuming that I forgot about the whole ‘you’re falling’ thing?”

“…Yes.”

“That would be incorrect, then. Please Roman, just let me know what’s going on. It’s clear you’re hiding something, so what is it?”

Roman winced at the accusation, sitting down on the bed. “Is there anything I could say to convince you to stop prying?”

“No, nothing at all,” Logan replied, sitting down next to him.

“Then… it would be best to just say it, right? Not draw it out for too long?”

“Yes, that is what most people would prefer to do.”

“I fell in love with you, Logan.”

“You did.”

“I did.”

Logan wasn’t sure why he felt so shocked, in all honesty. He’d _known_ that this was very likely to be true. He’d _known_ that Roman was falling from the second he’d walked in the room, and he’d had his suspicions as to why he was a moment later. He was at a loss, then, as to why he would possibly be feeling tears on his cheeks.

“Are you… crying? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, I— no. You’re fine.” Logan turned away to wipe the wetness from his cheeks before looking back up at Roman. “I believe it’s just that you—essentially, you’re falling because of _me,_ aren’t you?”

“Well, not exactly. This is still entirely my own doing, after all.”

“But it _is_ because you fell in love with me that you’re falling, correct?”

“I mean _kind of,_ but I promise you that this isn’t your fault, Logan.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, wiping away the final traces of his sadness from beneath his eyes. “If I had—”

“What, been less easy to love? You _aren’t_ easy to love, Logan, and that’s one of the infinite reasons I _do_ love you. I had to do so much to be granted even a glimpse of who you are, and after I did… well, I can hardly fault you for being yourself.” Roman gave him a bittersweet smile. “It wasn’t any one thing that caused me to fall in love with you, it was _everything_ that you are and were. I love _you_ —not something that you said or did or anything else—and there’s nothing you could have done to change that. My fall isn’t your fault, Logan. I promise.”

Logan dutifully ignored the blush that began to cover his face. “Is there any way to stop an angel from falling?”

“I’m not sure. But frankly, Logan, I don’t mind falling one bit if it’s for you.”

“That’s incredibly sweet and all, but I _am_ trying to figure out a way to save your soul here, so I’d appreciate any information you may have on hand.”

“Yes, right. I, uh, I’m sorry to say that there isn’t a way to save a fallen angel, darling. You can’t _raise_ angels, so while I do appreciate the fact that you care for me, there’s nothing you can do.”

“You haven’t fallen though, have you?”

“No, the darkening wings just indicate that I’m going to, and I’m going to soon.”

“You haven’t fallen yet,” Logan repeated, giving Roman a pointed look.

“…Yes. That’s what I just said.”

Logan shook his head, deciding to fully explain what he was thinking himself. “So if you stop doing whatever is causing you to fall, halt the progression of black over the rest of your wings… you could still be saved. You are still an angel, so you _can_ be saved. All you have to do is—”

“No. Absolutely not. Logan, I made you a promise, and I won’t break it. I won’t—”

“—leave me behind.”

“—leave you behind.”

“You have to. I want you to be able to remain an angel, to not fall, to be happy because I—”

“I can’t. I don’t care what happens to me as long as it means I still get to see you and spend time with you and as long as you’re happy because I—”

“—love you,” they finished in unison.

“And that’s why you have to leave.”

“And that’s why I can’t leave.”

“I love you,” they said again, perfectly in sync, the words meaning everything and not nearly enough all at once.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Logan whispered.

“So then you won’t,” Roman replied, voice just as quiet.

“But I— I know there’s no other choice.”

“There’s always another choice.”

“Not this time. No matter what you do, I lose you.”

“Logan—”

“You have to leave. You have to go back to— to heaven or whatever sort of paradise it is that you came from. At least this way, I’ll get to say goodbye.”

_“Logan—”_

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me there’s another way, and I’ll stop.” It was a question, a challenge, but most of all, it was a plea.

“I—” Roman took a quivering breath. “You’re right. You’re always right,” he said with a slightly watery laugh. “There’s no other way. You’re right.”

There was a tragic sort of irony in that. The one time he wished more than anything that he was wrong, Logan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said as he leaned forward, resting his head against Roman’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

Logan looked up and placed a delicate kiss on Roman’s cheek. “Do you— are you alright with leaving now?”

_“Now?”_

“I know it’s sudden, but I— I don’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary, not while I know that you’ll be leaving soon enough anyway.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Both Logan and Roman went silent for a moment, neither moving, neither wanting the world to continue hurtling towards the end of their time together. Finally though, Roman spoke. 

“How about one more day?”

“One more day?”

“Mhm. Just… spend one more day together, and then I leave tonight. So we can part with a few more beautiful memories of each other to hold on to.”

“That sounds—” Logan had to pause, clearing his throat to banish the emotion from his voice. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you have a plan?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” 

Logan laughed, happy to ignore the ticking countdown in the back of his head until later. “I figured I’d ask, but somehow, I didn’t think you would.”

“You know me too well, love.” Roman lightly kissed the top of Logan’s head before continuing, “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready. You’re good just wandering around town for a while, right?”

“With you?” Logan smiled. “How could I not be?”

* * *

Time has a funny way of passing sometimes. When you’re looking forward to something, it seems to crawl. When you’re doing something you enjoy, it can become negligible and easily forgotten. When you have nothing to gauge it by, Mondays become Thursdays and Thursdays become Sundays.

And of course, when you’re dreading something, the time before it passes in a blur.

Roman and Logan’s day passed in a blur.

They’d gone to all three bookshops within walking distance of Logan’s house and the ice cream shop situated beside the final one. There was an odd little museum near the edge of town, and they’d dropped by there too. They had brunch at a charming cafe and made up stories about the people that walked past the window, perused the aisles of several stores just so Roman could try on increasingly eccentric outfits for Logan’s amusement and bought nothing. At the dog park just off of Main Street, they’d stopped to laugh with each other at the antics of the puppies that rushed to and fro before strolling along the road towards a park of their own, lined with the most beautiful flowering trees. They stopped in bakeries and candy stores, coffee shops and out-of-the-way boutiques filled to the brim with various antiques and trinkets. Logan and Roman did all that and still would have sworn they couldn’t have spent any more than four hours together.

It was, of course, closer to eight and a half hours since they’d walked into the first bookshop to the moment the sun had almost fully set and their day was over.

Time can do that to you sometimes.

Similarly to the way time had felt earlier in the day, time after the sun had set passed in flashes, quick as lightning and just as bright. The walk to their willow tree should have taken at least fifteen minutes, but it felt as short as one shallow breath.

When they did reach the willow tree, they stood there for what felt like an eternity, lost in each other’s eyes before Roman broke the silence. “Dance with me,” he said.

And though Logan had never once danced in his life, he replied, “Of course.”

Beneath the moonlight that filtered through the willow tree’s branches, Roman twirled Logan to the beat of the silence around them. Neither pointed out the lack of music, and neither mentioned that Roman had only asked to dance to put off the inevitable. 

It was only when their feet grew too tired to keep moving that they stopped and stood still. Logan looked up at Roman and the stars above him, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky as to find someone like his angel, even if it was only for a fraction of his life. Roman looked down at Logan and the silver light that gleamed in his dark eyes, pondering what he had done to deserve having so little time with the love of his life before everything was ripped away. 

The whole world paused as they held each other, Logan’s arms twined around Roman’s neck and Roman’s wrapped around Logan’s waist. The air felt fragile, like everything—not just their hearts—would shatter into trillions of pieces once they spoke again.

Still, time continued stubbornly forward on its path towards the end of Roman’s life on Earth—his life with Logan—so the angel spoke despite the fact that he could practically hear how the world shattered around them.

“Logan,” he started, moving his hands from Logan’s waist to brush a lock of hair behind his ear and brush the beginnings of a tear from beneath his left eye. “Logan, there are no words I can say that will truly encapsulate all that I feel for you. There is nothing in this world that could explain all that you mean to me, and there is no way for me to express the euphoria in my heart at having gotten to know and love you. Everything you are and every bit that you’ve grown causes me to fall more in love with you as the seconds tick past, and every moment I find I love you more sets a new precedent for the amount of love I’m able to give. Meeting you is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and no matter what happens, I will never, ever forget you. I love you, Logan, more than all the stars in the sky.”

“Roman,” Logan began, wracking his brain for a way for him to say everything he wanted to. “Did you know that if you were trapped in a black hole and you peeked out, you’d see everything that had ever happened and will ever happen in that tiny patch of sky?” he asked, settling on what he knew how to do best: teach. 

“This is because black holes are so dense that they distort time itself. The universe slows down and speeds up on a whim, and the passage of time means nothing at all. You could enter a black hole today, and if by some miracle you managed to escape, you’d emerge thousands of years into the future though to you, it would have felt to be mere minutes. This ‘time dilation,’ as it were, would allow you to look ahead of you and see everything that had fallen into the black hole before you and if you managed to turn around, you’d see everything that would fall in after. So, if by some miracle you had enough presence of mind to observe the world around you as you neared the event horizon, you would be able to see the entirety of what had happened in your small corner of the universe when you did. Everything would be moving so much faster than light itself that you’d be able to watch the whole evolution of the universe happen—from the Big Bang to the end of life as we know it—all at once, over and over again. 

“But you know, I think if it were me in that black hole, looking out at the creation and destruction of the universe, the rise and fall, again and again, all I’d be able to think about was being here with you in this moment. I don’t care one bit about seeing the rest of the universe when I have something more precious to me than all the stars in the sky—when I have you.”

Roman’s jaw had dropped at some point while Logan had been speaking, awed by the love and eloquence in his words. “Beautiful,” he whispered as he brushed a hand over Logan’s cheek, unable to say anything else and unwilling to shatter the silence any further.

Then a breeze blew through their hair, and Logan and Roman were reminded abruptly that the rest of the world existed. 

“You have to leave,” Logan said, and it was at once an order and a lament. He took one step back, and it was the most painful thing he’d ever done.

“I do,” Roman agreed, and it was at once an acknowledgment and a form of mourning. He unfurled his wings, and it hurt more than anything else he’d done in his immortal life. They opened fully, glowing a brilliant white against the darkness as he flapped them once, lifting off the ground. He flapped them a second time, and he was well into the air, barely close enough to reach out a hand and brush it against Logan’s face. “Goodbye, my darling. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Roman’s hand began to pull away, and before he knew what he was doing, Logan’s own hand shot out and grasped his wrist as he said with sudden intensity, “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you? Just once, just to remember you by.”

“I wish I could give you _thousands_ of kisses, Logan. Of course you may have this one.”

With that, Roman floated down slightly, feet still a few inches off the ground as though he knew that if he landed he’d never leave. Placing a gentle hand on Logan’s cheek, he leaned towards him, preparing for a soft, sweet kiss.

Logan seemed to have other plans though, for he laid his hands on Roman’s face and dragged him closer, standing on his tiptoes to reach Roman’s lips and meet them in a kiss so passionate the flame burning between them could have set the whole world aflame.

Logan didn’t pull back for a long while, refusing to come up for air because he knew—he _knew_ —that when he did, it would mean Roman’s goodbye would be permanent. But he was human and had to breathe eventually, so pull back he did. Even then, though, he still wouldn’t remove his hands from Roman’s face.

“I love you,” Logan said once more, resting his forehead against Roman’s.

“I love you too. Goodb—”

“Don’t say goodbye. Please. I don’t want to think about the fact that I— I won’t— I won’t ever be able to see you again. Just say I love you. Those can be—” Logan swallowed hard, but he continued holding Roman’s face in his hands as though it were a lifeline. “Those can be your last words to me. Better than goodbye, I think.”

“Okay,” Roman whispered, fluttering his wings gently as he gradually lifted himself farther and farther away from Logan. “I love you, Logan. I always will.” Roman didn’t wait for a response, wiping the tears glistening in his eyes away as he fluttered into the sky and vanished in a bright flash of light. 

He was gone.

Logan took a breath, willing it to stay calm. It hitched anyway, and his voice came out similarly unsteady as he said to empty air, “I love you too, Roman. Always. Always, and more than all the stars in the sky.” If he really listened, Logan could almost imagine he heard those final words echoing back at him, falling from the sky the same way Roman almost had.

* * *

Roman was falling. 

He was falling, and his wings hadn’t turned black. He was falling, and he wasn’t screaming in pain. He was falling, and he was smiling.

He was falling, and Logan was staring at the sky in disbelief as he did.

Logan was a neuroscientist. He knew that a fight or flight response was triggered when the human brain was overwhelmed and stressed. He knew exactly how it dealt with information and that if need be, it would formulate more believable scenarios when the current one couldn’t be processed. He knew that when it came to sleep deprivation, intense hallucinations would only start after a full seventy-two hours of no sleep. 

Logan was not overwhelmed. Logan’s mind had always processed things in the way it should have, and he was not prone to coming up with scenarios that had never happened. While it wasn’t as much sleep as would have been ideal—seeing as he had been consistently sleep deprived for the past week—Logan had still slept for a full seven and a half hours last night.

And that’s why, for the _life_ of him, he could not figure out why Roman appeared to be falling from the sky.

Roman wasn’t supposed to be falling from the sky. Roman was supposed to be in heaven or whatever sort of paradise it was that he lived in because Logan’s heartbreak hadn’t been for nothing, because Roman leaving had meant something, because their dual sacrifice had ensured that he would be _safe._

So why the _fuck_ was he falling now?

And where were his wings? If he were falling, shouldn’t they be as dark and black as night?

Something was wrong. Logan didn’t know what, but something was wrong. He had to get to Roman.

Logan wasn’t normally one for running, but he did make sure to keep himself in shape. That, combined with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, caused him to arrive at the field of wildflowers in record time. As long as Logan’s sense of direction was sound, he was sure that Roman had, for whatever reason, appeared to be falling straight for their willow tree.

Panting, Logan slowed down as he scoured the ground for the place Roman had fallen. 

“I’m up here, love.”

Logan looked up. “You’re on top of a willow tree.”

“Astute,” Roman agreed.

“Why are you on top of a willow tree?” Logan asked, refusing to ask the question he wanted the answer to most of all.

Roman shrugged. “It’s just where I fell. I didn’t have any control over that.”

“Right,” Logan said, only slightly distracted by the fact that Roman was currently leaping from branch to branch in an attempt to reach the ground. “So then,” he began, figuring that putting this off any longer didn’t make the least bit of sense, “why _did_ you fall? And doesn’t falling usually entail becoming… you know.”

“A demon? Yeah, it normally does. But I’m a special case,” Roman grinned as he made one final jump and landed on solid ground.

“Yes, I’d say you very much are.” Ignoring Roman’s spluttering response as he continued to make his way towards the angel, Logan asked, “But in this particular scenario, how so?”

With an annoyed huff—presumably still directed at Logan’s previous comment—Roman replied, “I didn’t _technically_ fall, not in the way you’d think of it, since I did nothing _wrong._ So I’m not a demon, but I’m also not an angel anymore.”

“So what are you, then?”

“Human.”

“Wh— _How?_ ”

“Easy,” Roman said, tucking a lock of Logan’s hair behind his ear the moment he drew near enough for Roman to do so. “You know how I fell in love with you? And you fell in love with me?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You think I could forget? It’s not as though that’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past several weeks.”

“Yes, well, my _point_ is that angels are creatures of love, of course, so once my boss figured out why I came back, She decided that tearing me away from the love of my life went entirely against everything angels stood for.”

“And that… caused you to fall?”

“Not exactly. That caused Her to give me a choice: stay an immortal angel until the end of time, helping people as I always had _or_ fall to Earth and become a human so I could still be with you.”

“And you chose to come back. You chose to be human. You chose—”

“You.”

“Me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, my darling.”

“Roman—” Logan stopped, suddenly finding himself unable to speak.

“Yes, love?”

Still lacking the words he needed, Logan instead took another step forward at the same time Roman did, and their lips met in the space between them for their second-ever kiss.

“I love you,” Roman said, voicing what Logan could have only hoped to.

For once, Logan was more action than words as he kissed Roman again. It was a promise—a promise to them both that their kisses would be just as numerous as the very stars Roman had helped to create, their love just as beautiful. 

“More than all the stars in the sky,” Logan replied finally, lips still a hairsbreadth from Roman’s, voice barely a whisper.

“More than all the stars in the sky.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments! kudos!! pls and thank you
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://ratherstarryeyed.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/ratherstareyed) and find the tumblr post for this fic [here](https://ratherstarryeyed.tumblr.com/post/616338369041072128/all-of-these-stars-will-guide-us-home)


End file.
